Lovely Addiction
by chibikeeper
Summary: Upon returning from London, Ashley finds herself immersed in the contents of small baggies, unable and afraid to spend a day without their comfort. As her drug addiction spirals out of control, can anyone bring her back from the edge?
1. Tethered to the Floor

Ashley stepped lightly into the waiting area. She found her mom, dad, both stepdads, and Toby waiting for her. She tried to smile but her face seemed frozen in a gape. They engulfed her, hugging, squeezing, telling her how much they missed her. She peered over her mother's shoulder, searching for his face.

He was nowhere to be found. She sighed with relief inwardly. She'd done the line on the plane just in case he was here. It would help cushion the fall she knew would occur if she were to see him. Now that he wasn't here, it was just a nice ride.

"Ash?"

She snapped to attention. "Uh, yea?"

"Come on, hun." Her mom draped an arm around Ashley's shoulder. "You must have crazy jetlag."

"Yea, jetlag."

When the caravan arrived at the Kerwin house, Ashley found that her family expected her to stay and tell them everything about London. She knew that if she tried telling stories, they'd jumble into something resembling the bad trip she had last week. Her head ached just thinking about it. She complained of a stomach ache and left them to their niceties.

She quietly closed the door in her room, making sure it was bolted. She tossed her bag onto her beg, rifling through her purse. Triumphantly, she pulled a small, clear baggy from its confines. The soft, white powder looked more inviting than ever.

She grinned wickedly and pulled out her notebook. She sat the notebook on her crossed legs and poured a small heap onto its hard surface. She used her driver's license to form the perfect little line. She giggled, rolling the photo of her Craig, just as she had done in London at least three times a day.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, the small particles shooting up into her sinuses. It tickled. She giggled again, but kept snorting it. She didn't want to lose the hit. As she finished the line, she felt a warm sensation flow over her.

She fell back onto her bed, hugging the teddy bear that Jimmy had given her in the eighth grade tightly to her chest. Her smile broadened as she felt the warm flow cease and an icy shiver run through her.

She laughed as her ceiling began to mold into the shape of a panda. The panda began to wave madly at her, and she waved right back. She didn't realize that she was still laughing hysterically.

A knock pulled her from her drug induced reverie.

"Ash? What are you doing?" Toby's voice permeated her door, and she felt as if it were crawling into her brain.

"Nothing, Tobes." She smiled at the lie, tracing her name into the air.

She swore she could see the neon colors with which she had written her name. They flickered and evaporated and she nearly cried out at the loss of them.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Him, again.

"Yea, I'm great." She giggled again.

She heard his footsteps retreating from her door. She thought that maybe, when he was ready, she'd introduce him to this. A new way to see the world. It would make him a better person, loosen him up a little. She nodded resolutely, determined to show him the brighter side of life once she could stand up. She felt her lead-heavy limbs sliding away from her.

She began to cry, as her dismembered limbs began to shake. At first, she cried softly, then, after they had reattached themselves, she cried for the sake of crying. She yearned for London; she knew exactly where to go to get good stuff to restock on. At home, she felt herself slipping away. How would she replenish her diminishing supply?

She pulled herself upright and prepared another line. She knew the rise was the best part, and coming down hurt more than anything she had felt before. She sniffed as hard as she could, intent on getting every last grain.

The makeshift straw dropped from her hand, unfurling itself. She saw the faces, but they were foreign. Somewhere, she realized she was in the picture, but the only thing that stood out was him. She couldn't remember his name. She smiled. He was cute. He was familiar, but the familiarity brought with it a sour taste.

She felt her stomach turning. She hadn't expected this trip to end badly. She hurried out of her room and across the hall, into the bathroom. She hugged the porcelain toil as she vomitted. Heave after heave, it seemed to never end. She found herself dizzy from the exertion. Her vision blurred and narrowed.

She heaved the remaining contents of her stomach into the bowl, the sickening splash only making her gag. She gasped for breath, spitting the excess saliva form her mouth. She wiped her mouth, the mixture of vomit and saliva leaving a trail on her sleeve.

She stood and stared at herself in the mirror. She was thin, painfully so. Her collar bones jutted from beneath her skin, creating pools of shadow. Her skin was sallow, stretched across her bones. She laughed.

"Terri would just die." She laughed again.

She realized that in her rush to the bathroom, she had spilled her baggy. She nearly screamed in frustration as she tried to sweep the grains in the bag. Sighing, she decided it would be easier if she just used it off the carpet.

She snatched the picture from her bed, not even glancing at the faces on the opposite side. She rolled it and sniffed up the little piles, one by one, until the only remainders were few and far between.

She smiled lazily, falling back on her carpet. She waved her arms and legs, giggling.

"Carpet angels!" She shouted, laughing even harder.

"Ash, what are you doing?" It was Toby.

"Carpet angels, Tobes!" She squealed with delight, her limbs swinging faster -- in her mind, they had disconnected themselves from her and were swaying of their own accord.

She heard him sigh in confusion, turning and leaving her to her fun. She shut the door, bolting it.

"He just doesn't understand the meaning of cool." She whispered to herself, before giggling uncontrollably.

She propped herself back on her elbows, glancing around the room. Her baggy lay near her foot, a mere handful remaining. She groaned at the sight of it, before standing up and digging through her bag for her second bag.

She joyfully pulled a baggy of halved pills from the confines of a bra cup. She dug once more, producing a nearly full baggy of powder.

"Hello, darling."

She emptied the nearly empty bag of powder into the other, tossing the empty baggy into the waste basket. She sealed the bulging bag, setting it alongside the pills in her suitcase.

She felt her high reach its peak as the pills began to separate and squirm. She saw herself lying on her bed as she lay on the ceiling. She felt the ceiling give way and she was rising higher and higher, until she could see her house.

She felt someone floating next to her, but their face was blurred.

"Will you marry me?"

As he spoke, his face became clear, his name, his birthday, his phone number. Everything she had ever known about him swam into her mind and she was abruptly dropped back onto the bed, her limbs aching from the long flight on the roof.

She picked up the phone, trying to punch in the numbers. Her fingers were too thick, she was dialing the wrong number. She hung it up, then tried again. It rang twice before someone picked up.

"Craig!" She nearly screamed the name, as she stood up on her bed.

"...yea, who's this?" It was his voice, she knew it.

"It's Ashley. How did you get home so fast?" Her words sped together, crashing into one another.

"What?"

She felt something wriggling near her ear. She pulled the phone away and screamed. Thousands of thin worms were wiggling out of the receiver, squirming their way to freedom. She grabbed it and began to bang it against her bedpost, trying to squash the worms before they crawled into her ear.

"Die, die, die!" She brought the receiver down again and again, before she was satisfied that the worms were dead; she began to laugh.

Her doorknob turned quickly.

"Ashley? Honey?" Her mother's worried voice seemed distant and crackled. "Are you okay?"

She felt her stomach turning once more. She leapt off her bed towards the door, but found her legs weren't obeying her commands. She fell, her head smacking soundly against the carpet. Her throat clenched as she heaved a clear, syrup-y substance onto herself and the floor.

Her stomach had no more to give. She vomitted until she was left to dry heaving. Her chest tightened as she forced herself to breathe.

"Ashley?" Her mother's voice was panicked. "Honey?"

"I'm fine, Mom." She weakly called out, trying not to move any muscle for fear she would begin puking again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yea, I'm fine."

Her breath was ragged as she lay there, her vomit soaking into her thick purple carpet.

"I'm fine." 


	2. Driving in the Sun

Ashley awoke to a sour stench enveloping her. It took her a few seconds to realize that she was lying in her own dried vomit. Her stomach lurched in disgust. She weakly pulled herself from the floor, her hair crusted into a ninety degree angle from her face.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, yawning. She glanced at the alarm clock at her bedside: four AM. Wiping the spittle from the corners of her mouth, she woozily stood, surveying the damage. A encrusted pool on her carpet and a doozy of a hangover. She'd had worse. She unlocked her door and stole across the hallway for a wet towel.

She scrubbed the sour mess with all her might, intent on removing the stain and the stink. It would be more than slightly suspicious if her parents were to find a large sour spot on her floor. She sprayed a bleach solution onto the stain.

After she was sure that she had successfully removed it, she crept into the bathroom for a cold shower. Cold showers usually helped to pull her from the haze of a trip.

The torrents of icy water shot at her back. She breathed deeply as the water soaked into her hair, gently pulling the crusts from the strands and freeing it. She poured a dollop of shampoo into her palm, and began working it through her chin length hair.

"God, Ashley, talk about a night." She laughed sardonically.

After she had cleaned the grime of the flight, the night, and the overdose from her lean frame, she stepped out and dried herself off. Slipping into an oversized t-shirt, she crawled underneath her purple comforter. The baggies lay on her bedside table, calling her.

She rolled over, ignoring their voice as she drifted off to sleep.

The sun shone through her blinds, warming her face. She was slowly pulled from the depths of sleep. She opened her eyes, her body craving a line or two. She itched into the marrow of her every bone she wanted a line so badly. She rolled out of bed, preparing a haphazard line. She rolled the photo and snorted.

The grains flew into her nose, relieving the incessant itch as it began to flow into her bloodstream. She murmured in satisfaction, shivering with delight.

The line had given her the energy she had needed to get out of bed, and she quickly washed her face and got dressed. She brushed her hair, the past night's follies forgotten.

She sighed, picking up the phone and dialing the familiar number. It rang; someone picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Joey? Is Craig there?" Ashley twirled a short lock of hair.

"Ashley?" He sounded surprised. "Yea, let me get him."

She waited a few seconds before hanging up.

She fell back on her bed, fingering the baggy filled with powder. She toyed with the powder, pushing it around inside the bag. A small cluster of crystals had been left uncrushed by whoever had baked them. She crushed it with her thumb.

She tossed the baggy aside and opened the other one. Pulling two small tablets from the bag, she swallowed them dry. The small alligator embossed on both sides was meant to identify it from the other dealers. It seemed to shake its tail at her.

She stored the bag of pills in her jewelry box, safely stowing the other away in the bottom of her purse. After throwing on her worn pair of Chucks, she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs.

On the kitchen table, she found a note.

"Ashley - went grocery shopping, be back later. Love, Mom"

Ashley shrugged and grabbed a pen off the counter, scribbling alongside her mother's elegant scrawl.

"Mom - went to Ellie's. Home later. Love, Ashley"

Truth be told, she had no intention of going to Ellie's. She felt it best to come up with some destination to keep her mother from worrying too much.

As she stepped into the mid-morning sun, she felt the alligator swishing through her bloodstream. The grass was greener, the sun was brighter - even the concrete seemed to shine with new opportunity. She bounded out onto the sidewalk, practically skipping.

As she approached the Jeremiah house, she felt the bounce ease out of her step. After each pill, the euphoria faded more quickly. She turned into the park, stopping at a lone picnic table.

She pulled her school ID from her purse, and after pouring a small mound of powder from the bag, she began to form a perfect line. She rolled her straw and aimed for the inhale.

"Ashley!"

The little girl's voice broke her concentration. She wouldn't allow herself to sweep the line into the grass, so as fast as she could manage, she snorted the line. She quickly swept the residual powder into the grass, stuffing the bag into her purse.

"Ashley! Ashley!" Angela Jeremiah leapt onto Ashley's lap, hugging her fiercely. "Craig, look! It's Ashley!"

"Angie, hey!" Ashley hurriedly wiped her nose. "What are you doing here?"

"Craig took me to the park." Angela released her grip on Ashley. "What are you doing here?"

"I just went for a walk." Ashley glanced around. "Where's your brother?"

"Behind you." She jumped, startled by his voice resonating behind her.

Angela laughed, jumping from Ashley's lap and running to the swings nearby.

"Craig, push me!" She called, swinging her legs, attempting to swing herself.

"In a sec, Angie." Craig sat down beside her, and she a warm rush run through her body; she involuntarily shivered. "When'd you get back?"

"Last night." She looked at the ground, hoping her pupils weren't too dilated yet. "I was going to call but - "

"We have caller ID, Ash." He smiled at Angela as he stood.

Ashley didn't lift her gaze.

"Craig, I..." Her words fell to the ground.

"Save it, Ash." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You made it pretty clear what you wanted."

He walked over to Angela, pushing her in the swing. Ashley didn't bother to follow him. Ashley felt a tiny fist clenching her throat. She struggled to breathe. She hurriedly grabbed her purse and left the park.

In her rush, she failed to see a plastic baggy fall to the ground.

By the time she was back home and in her room, the fist had released its grasp, leaving her alone, crying on the floor. She opened her purse, searching for something -- anything -- to keep her afloat, only sobbing harder when her search turned up empty.

Her jewelry box. She remembered hiding the alligator pills in there. She leapt to her feet and tore open the jewelry box. The tiny, rotating ballerina fell from her post, leaving a whirling spring following the tinny music.

Ashley didn't bother to replace the ballerina; she nearly ripped open the bag with zeal. She hurriedly forced a small handful of the chalky pills down her dry throat, gagging as they caught. She ran across the hall, into the bathroom, filling a glass of water and gulping it down to wash the remaining bits down her throat.

Sighing with relief, she trudged back to her room. After setting a Phantom PLanet album on repeat, she lazily fell back onto her bed. She clutched the panda and waited to feel the euphoric glow that she had grown so accustomed to waking up and going to sleep with.

Her ceiling fan began to warp around itself, spinning like a discus. She felt her eyes cross as the fan fell in on itself. The light began to beam out, every separated particle of light falling to the ground like a tiny spark. She was mesmerized by the way each spark danced around her plush carpet before fizzling out.

She felt herself pulling away from the carpet, the sparks, the room. The familiar lyrics floated through her mind, the words writhing and twisting as they drifted in front of her eyes.

We've been on the run, driving in the sun, lookin' out for number one.

She saw herself, riding down the an open freeway, the wind toying with her hair. One of her hands hung loosely in the air, flowing with the breeze like an ocean wave. Her mouth was moving, but the words were garbled. She saw him; Craig. He was driving. He laughed and said something, but his words were drowned out.

In a whisper, she heard her own voice, disembodied.

"I love you."

His mouth moved, but the only sound she heard was a siren's blare. 


	3. Numb in Fluorescent

Kate gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. Jeff held her hand as they waited anxiously in the brightly colored reception area.

"Jeff, how could this happen?" Kate muttered, clenching his hand. "Her father was supposed to watch her. How could he not have noticed?"

Jeff tried to calm her, rubbing her back in slow, gentle circles.

"This isn't his fault, Kate." Jeff spoke slowly. "Ashley's a smart girl, she probably knew how --"

"Exactly!" Kate jerked beneath his hand. "She's smart. Christ, Jeff, we sent her to music camp."

Jeff held his tongue as he saw a man in white labcoat round the corner. He was a short, portly man in his late forties, with an obvious comb-over on the back of his head to cover his evergrowing blad spot.

"Mrs.Kerwin? Mr.Isaacs?" His voice was soft and gravelly.

Kate and Jeff leapt to their feet.

"Yes, that's us." Kate spoke rapidly. "Is she alright?"

"She's going to be fine."

Kate's eyes bulged.

"Fine?" Her voice was low. "Fine? When Toby found her she was having a goddamn seizure right on the bedroom floor and you're telling me she's fine?"

Jeff held her wrist tightly. His lips were pursed, a knit of worry on his brow.

"Ma'am, you're daughter ingested a heavy dosage of 2C-T-7. Seizures --"

"2C-what?" Kate shook Jeff's hold from her wrist.

"2C-T-7." He paused, waiting for her to interrupt him; when she failed to do so, he continued. "Seizures are a fairly regular side effect for larger doses. She didn't overdose -- that's rare with 2Cs -- but she could have choked to death if someone hadn't found her."

"Choked to death? On what?" Jeff's brow knitted further, making him look decades older.

"Vomit, sir." He paused, adjusting his labcoat. "Bloodwork also detected ketamine in her blood system."

"What's ketamine?" Jeff asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"It's a veterinary tranquilizer. When cooked, it crystallizes and is crushed and sold in powder form." He flipped a few pages on his clipboard. "Have you noticed any white residues on anything like a credit card, or a driver's license?"

"No. I mean, we would have, but she got home from London yesterday." Kate ran a hand through her hair.

"I see." He jotted a note on the paper. "You can come in and see her, if you like."

Kate nodded weakly, grasping for Jeff's hand as they followed the doctor through a series of hallways. The fluorescent bulbs flickered overhead, the gentle hum only broken by the occasional zap of a wandering insect.

The lights seemed to dim as they entered the small hospital room. The shades were drawn, leaving only a scant reminder of the setting sun outside the thick sterile walls. The smell of rubbing alcohol and saline solution filled the air, clouding out any natural smell that might have remained.

Ashley lay prostrate on the thick hospital mattress, the mechanical bed moved into a variation of the sitting position. Her eyes darted nervously from one wall to the other, occasionally one eye going to opposite direction of the other. As her eyes darted about, she caught sight of her mother.

Her eyes bulged and she began to choke. Her hands went to her mouth, grasping at the tube that went down her throat and into her stomach. She pulled it an inch out of her throat, her eyes brimming with tears at the scraping of her throat.

The doctor rushed at her, brushing her hands away from her throat as he tried, as gently as he could, to return the tubing to its original position. Ashley was gasping for breath, her hands gripping the rails of her hospital bed so tightly that the skin on the back of her hand was stretchd so thin that the outline of the IV needle was apparent.

Once the tube's place was established, the flustered doctor pressed a small button on a cylindrical device, creating a low hum to cover the uncomfortable silence. He picked up another set of tubes and hooked them around Ashley's neck, leading the two openings to her nostrils. She relaxed as the oxygen pumped directly into her airways.

The doctor took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow.

"Well now, not exactly an ideal reunion, but one nonetheless." He tried to muster a smile, but after seeing the horrified expressions on Kate and Jeff's faces, he thought better of it. "Obviously, I recommend she doesn't speak -- she should be able to return home in the morning; keeping her overnight for observation, you know, standard procedure."

Kate barely managed a nod as she neared her daughter. Ashley was pallid and gaunt -- she had noticed when she returned that she had lost weight, but only then did it become apparent how much weight had been shed in London. Clumps of hair stood on end, while others lay tamely against her head, due to an observant nurse's ministrations.

"Ashley...honey..." Kate struggled to find something to say; there were no Hallmark cards for this. "...we can get you help."

Ashley shook her head vigorously, coughing only once. Her eyebrows knitted together in worry as she tried to think of a way to tell her mother that she didn't need help.

She noticed a complimentary pen and pad on the writing desk in the corner. She motioned for it, making small primal noises. Jeff moved to obtain it, handing it to her.

She scribbled furiously, as if she were writing a text message and not a note to her mother.

Im fine. i dont have NEmore

She thrust the pad at her mother, who read it as if it were a foreign language.

"No more?" She raised her hands in dismay. "Ashley, I don't know how long you've been .. using...but I can't let it go on any longer. You have to get help."

Ashley motioned for the pad and hurriedly scrawled her message across an entire sheet.

not a junky!

Kate sighed, a sad smile on her light features. Jeff came up beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

"I don't think this is a good time to discuss this." Kate said, brushing the searing glare Ashley had given her right off. "Not with Ashley's current condition."

"We've got to go home and make some arrangements, anyway." Kate drifted towards the door before turning. "I love you, Ashley. We'll come to pick you up in the morning."

Ashley said nothing as they left.

As the night wore on, Ashley began to notice a craving. A pool of saliva gathered at the back of her mouth at the mere thought of a good line of K. Oh! Falling into the glory of a K-hole! What she would do for a tiny, little, itsy-bitsy, smidgen of a bump...

No.

She tried to shake the thoughts. She remembered her location. If anyone at the hospital saw her wanting, they would be sure to tell her parents, and they would most definitely send her off to rehab then.

But no. That wasn't her plan.

At the first mention of rehab, Ashley had decided to lie. To go to all measures to escape being sent to a ranch, or a farm, or a psych ward -- she had a good story. A tiny part of her screamed that rehab would be okay, but the rest of her instantly squashed the little bugger. She'd fooled her father for two months; how hard could it be to fool everyone else?

She only wished she knew how long she would have to play the part. 


	4. Ziggy Stardust

After nearly a week in the hospital, the doctors finally deemed Ashley well enough to go home. She had remained bright during her stay, trying to thwart her parents worries. They remained upbeat as the withdrawal symptoms faded and the doctors assured them that with therapy, she could stay clean.

Ashley, on the other hand, spent the week figuring out how to find a hook-up. Through much deliberation, she decided that Jay Hogart would be bound to know someone, seeing as he seemed to be resident delinquent at Degrassi -- at least since Sean had relinquished the title.

She was jittery with anticipation as the orderlies escorted her to her parents' car. She knew that they would keep an eye on her for at least a week; she didn't know if she could wait that long. She mentally shrugged the thought off -- she was a better actress than anyone gave her credit for, she told herself.

Upon their arrival at home, one of the first thing Ashley noticed was that her door knob had been changed to one without a lock. She chose not to mention it; her parents seemed nervous enough as it was.

Toby was in his bedroom, playing on his computer when she stopped by his door.

"Hey, Tobes." Ashley said, leaning against the door.

He made no effort to turn and look at her. He hadn't visited once during her stay in the hospital. She sighed, resigning to let him mope by himself, and left him there.

Her room had been cleaned thoroughly while she was gone, she noticed. At first glance, it all seemed to be in place, but after a closer look, she realized that everything was slightly off. Things had been moved around a bit, deep cleaned, and searched over. With the realization that her parents had gone through all of her belongings in search of her nearly nonexistant stash, she crawled into her newly made bed.

The sheets were starched and stiff, and did little to comfort her aching body as she tried in vain to fall asleep. This was a part of the withdrawals -- a lesser part, but a part nonetheless. She couldn't sleep. She hadn't slept more than three hours a night in the past four days. At least the shakes had stopped. Dark circles pooled below her eyes, giving her the look of a girl deranged.

The look of a drug addict.

She felt like a drug addict. What she found more unsettling was that she didn't have a problem with it. At some point, she figured she must have come to terms with it without even realizing it. She had no qualms with lying to anyone for a good hit.

And it scared her.

Two weeks after her hospital discharge, school was only a few days away. Ashley hadn't spoken to any of her classmates since her return from London -- the only people outside of her parents (Toby still refused to hold a conversation with her) that she talked to were the other members of the Narcotics Anonymous group her parents made her go to three nights a week.

In all actuality, she liked going. She got some kind of relief in hearing others horror stories that made her own seem like a walk in the park. It made her feel normal.

It was before one of the NA meetings that she decided it would be a good time to find Jay.

After her mother dropped her off at the church, Ashley waited inside until she was sure that Kate had driven home.

She emerged from the church giddy with excitement. She caught a taxi and rode to the ravine in search of Mr. Hogart.

After paying the cab driver, she hurried down to the ravine. She spotted Jay's car, but no one around it. Slightly farther off, she saw the infamous van.

She cautiously rapped on the door. Muffled curses and the shuffling were heard before the sliding door swung open. Jay stepped out, followed by a girl Ashley didn't recognize.

"Kerwin? What the hell are you doing down here?" Jay asked her, zipping his pants as he spoke.

"You know her?" The girl asked incredulously, wiping her mouth.

Ashley ignored the girl; after all, she wasn't the reason that Ashley had come here.

"I need a hook-up, Jay." She told him, crossing her arms.

"Hey, you're hot and all, but I don't want to fuck you." He laughed, putting his hands up as if in defense.

"Not that kind of hook-up, you moron." She rolled her eyes in disgust at him. "I need a dealer."

"Whoa, a dealer?" Jay said, scratching his head. "Miss Goody Kerwin needs a dealer? Interesting."

"I'm serious, Jay." She replied, her tone hardening.

"Cool your jets, killer." He smirked. "What'll you do for a name and a number?"

The girl smacked him on the head, cursing at him.

"I was kidding, babe!" He exclaimed after a particularly good slap on his cheek. "God, woman. I give you a name and a number, you don't tell Alex what you saw here. Deal?"

"Deal." Ashley smiled triumphantly.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Ashley stepped out of a cab and onto a particularly shady street.

It mirrored the backstreets of New York City shown in police movies, complete with a few ragged hobos curled up in the crevices of the decrepti buildings.

She had called the number from a pay phone, and the man she had spoken to had given her the address. She stopped in front of a building with boarded windows, a dim light shining through the cracks in the boards and through the space underneath the awkwardly hung door.

The steps creaked unsteadily as she stepped on them, prompting her to hurry to the door. She knocked, the door swinging open with a loud squeal. She heard a flurry of footsteps and a lean, haggard young man spun out from behind another doorway.

"Who the fuck are you?" She saw his eyes try to focus on her, but failing to do so.

"I'm...Renee. I called?" Ashley stepped back nervously as he approached.

"Renee?" It seemed like something clicked in his addled brain and he threw his arms up in the air. "Yea, I'm Mouse. Let me get Ziggy for you."

He stumbled through the doorway and Ashley cautiously stepped in. She couldn't help but have noticed his trackmarks and the blood that had been dripping down his arm from them. She reflexively brought her hands to the crooks of her own elbows; the sight made them ache.

As second thoughts began to swarm in her mind, a taller man entered behind Mouse. He was nearly six and a half feet tall, his shoulder length blonde hair greasing into thick dread-like strands. His face was covered with pock marks and his nose was bent at a strange angle -- from an unset break, most likely. His body was lean and wiry, and he walked with a sway that Ashley had only seen on drag queens. His t-shirt advertised a strip club called The Cat Scratch, and his ragged jeans were open with holes from he knee down.

"Renee? You sounded older on the phone." His voice was hoarse and reminded her of sandpaper. "Come on back."

With a hand on his hip, he sashayed through the door he had entered, quickly followed by Mouse, who motioned her to do the same. She followed them in, her nostrils almost instantly assaulted with the stench of human waste and burnt skin.

"So, Renee," The man called Ziggy drawled the name like a curse word, "I am Ziggy Stardust." He swept his arms wide in showmanship. "Maybe you've heard of me?"

He laughed, raising his eyebrows as Ashley did not.

"Tough crowd." He plopped into an overstuffed armchair, dust billowing from its cushions under his weight. "What do you need? Oh, pardon me, what do you want?"

"K. I need an ounce or so." She ignored his sarcasm, shoving her hands deep into her pockets.

"An ounce is not good for first time buyers." Ziggy lit a cigar; in the light, she could tell it had been cut and filled with marijuana. "I give you a dime bag for seventy-five?"

"Seventy-five? What a rip-off." She wanted to take the words back as soon as they had spilled from her mouth.

"A rip off, huh?" His eyes darkened as he narrowed them at her. "You come into my place of business, I welcome you, and you call me a cheapskate?"

He stood up, sauntering over to her until he was nearly six inches from her. Her face barely met his shoulder. She whimpered as he raised a hand, wincing in preparation for a hit.

"Oh?" He laughed dryly. "Did you think I was going to hit you, Renee?"

He tossed the blunt to the side. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Not that time, sweetheart." The back of his hand was brought down swiftly to her cheek.

She fell to the ground, coughing. Her guard had been down, she was completely unprepared for the blow. She looked up and saw Mouse fidgeting in the opposite corner.

"Don't look at him." Ziggy growled, bringing his bare foot down on her shoulder. "He can't get you out of this one, cunt."

He ground his heel into her shoulder. He crouched down next to her, picking up his blunt. Twirling it between his long fingers, he blew on the tip, watching it glow orange.

"I don't take kindly to those who offend me." He said softly.

He wrenched her arm from beneath her and held her palm out. She cried out and tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She whimpered, tears springing to her eyes.

"Sorry just doesn't cut it, princess." He hissed, bringing the blunt down on her open palm.

The sick hiss of her skin curling beneath the heat brought on a fresh scent of burnt flesh. She bit her lip, crying softly. She tasted blood.

He released her hand roughly, and she brought it to her chest, coddling it. He slapped her across the face.

"Think that hurt?" He smiled. "Just wait."

She curled into a tight fetal position, praying that she was dreaming. Tears streamed down her stinging cheeks as she tried to stifle her cries.

She heard a click and opened her eyes briefly, before closing them tightly.

Ziggy had pulled out a knife and was in the process of unbuckling his jeans.

"Say a word and I slit your throat." She heard the shuffle of his pants falling to the ground. "Ashley." 


	5. A Leper Messiah

He laughed mirthlessly. She felt the cool blade of the knife just below her chin. He traced small concentric circles with the point, delighting in her squirming.

"Thought I'd let Hogart send me an anon?" He giggled girlishly. "I'm not that dumb."

Her breath was coming in short gasps now, and she found herself nearing a panic attack.

"Mouse." She heard a scuffling of feet as Mouse approached. "Pull her pants down."

"Ziggy, I don't think --"

"Now, Mouse!"

She flinched as she felt cold hands on her hips, unbuckling her jeans and tugging them down. She began to cry again as she tried to focus her mind away from the situation at hand.

Ashley imagined that it was all just a bad trip. She was really on the ceiling, and this was just a side effect.

'On the ceiling.' She muttered rapidly. 'On the ceiling. Not happening.'

Her mantra brought her above it all, and weightless, she drifted above, detached from the horror playing out below her.

She remained expressionless as he began to use her. After all, she wasn't there. It wasn't happening.

She vaguely felt a sharp pain on her shoulder. Her above-self noticed the blood dripping from her collarbone, where the knife had cut a clean line on the curve of her bone. He was smiling at it, admiring his handiwork.

When he had finished, he motioned for Mouse to attend to her. Her above-self left its station and settled back into her body. With her disassociation gone, she suddenly felt every stab of pain between her legs. She whimpered and rolled over, curling into a fetal position, her back to him.

"Get her clothes on and get her the fuck out of here." Ziggy buckled his jeans and winked at her. "Come back anytime."

Mouse shuffled nervously, propping Ashley up against the doorframe as he pulled her jeans up her bruised thighs.

"He-He's really a nice guy." Mouse whispered, buttoning her pants. "He's just kind of touchy. Oh, bad choice of words, eh?"

Ashley nodded to Mouse and tried to push herself up. Using the doorframe as leverage, she managed to stand on her own. Mouse hovered around her, ushering her towards the door.

When she had managed to make it to the front steps, Mouse stopped her.

"Please, Renee - Ashley, whatever - don't tell anyone." He told her somberly; a stark contrast to his previous expression of drug induced paranoia. "He will kill you."

She made no move to respond to him, and she stumbled down the stairs and continued down the street.

A light mist fell on her as she trudged through the darkened streets. Without a clear notion as to where she was going, she walked on. Further along the street, the headlights of a taxi bounced into view. As it came nearer, she flagged it down.

The cab driver did a double take in his rearview mirror when she had seated herself in the dingy cab. She paid him no mind as his eyes surveyed her dishevelled appearance.

Indeed, she was a sight. Her hair was messy and unkempt, falling aimlessly around her swollen face. Her right cheek had swelled and was beginning to bruise a deep purple. The other cheek was red and beginning to turn a shade of green. Her right eye was ringed with a mixture of colors that no amount of concealer could hide. Her light blue shirt had become encrusted with a mixture of tears and blood, the collar clinging to the cut on her collarbone. Her jeans were dingy and the thighs were covered in dirt and the occasional spot of blood. The cab driver debated on whether or not to call the police.

Before he could make up his mind, they had arrived at her destination. She thanked him softly and paid him, not bothering to collect the change.

She fell forward, nearly losing her balance as she stepped out onto the damp grass. The cool grass soaked through her sock, and she realized that she was missing a shoe.

Surveying the driveway, she breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of Joey's car. She saw the light through the kitchen window and the flicker of the TV against the opposite wall.

The foot still wearing a shoe caught on the step and she lurched forward, smacking her head against the glass door. She winced at the pain but was quickly standing again.

The creak of the door brought her eyes up and they immediately welled with tears.

Craig's eyes were wide in disbelief at the sight of her. She began to sob and he pulled her to him, hugging her close to his chest.

"Shit, Ash, what happened?" He whispered, bringing her inside.

She buried her head in his shoulder, crying softly. With one hand around her waist, hugging her to him, he brought the other up to stroke her hair. She gasped for breath between heaving sobs, clinging to his shirt.

Angela came running up behind him and stopped in her tracks at the sight of Ashley.

"Craig, what happened to Ashley?" She asked, debating whether or not to attend to her.

"Nothing, Angie. Don't worry, Ashley's gonna be fine, right, Ash?" He tried to smile at his sister, but couldn't force himself to. "Go watch TV until Joey gets home, okay?"

Angela shrugged, her eyes lingering on Ashley, before she turned and retreated to the living room.

Ashley slumped against Craig's shoulder, resigning herself to small sobs every few breaths.

"Ash, what happened? You have to tell me what happened." He said softly, trying to get her to move towards a couch, a bed, anything.

"He-He raped me, Craig." She broke into new sobs and brought herself closer to him. "I wanted some K and Jay said --"

"Jay raped you?" Craig interrupted; his face contorted with rage.

"N-No. It was a dealer.." She gasped for breath. "Craig, my parents can't find out. They can't know I went to a dealer."

"Ash, the dealer raped you. You could get a disease or get pregnant. You need to go to a hospital." Craig pleaded with her, but she shook her head firmly.

"I can't." She repeated, tears streaming down her swollen cheeks. "I can't. He'll kill me."

A swing of headlights shone through the window.

"Shit, Joey." Craig muttered. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

He led her to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind them. He turned the knobs on the shower, a quick steam filling the air.

"Just get in with your clothes on. They're pretty dirty anyway." He ran his hand over the blood crusted on her collarbone, pulling back as she winced. "That's a cut?"

She nodded and tried to pull the shirt off the wound, but grimaced in pain as the scabs pulled.

"Let the shower loosen it up, then take your shirt off." He turned as he heard the front door shut. "I'll be back in with some clothes in a minute. I gotta deal with Joey first."

He sighed and moved around her, leaving. She wrapped her arms around herself, surprised to find that she was shaky. Pulling off her lone shoe, she stepped into the stream, sucking in a breath as the hot water soaked through her clothes.

She felt twenty pounds heavier as her jeans sagged down, pulled by the weight of the water. She wriggled her toes, watching the brown water seep from beneath them. She slid her jeans down, trying not to look at the blood spots in the crotch. The brick red stream flowed from them.

She could vaguely hear Joey and Craig arguing. At least, she thought they were arguing. She tried to focus on their words.

"Just call Kate and tell her that she's here." She heard Craig say. "I think she's gonna crash here."

"Craig, I can't just call her mom and tell her that without some kind of reason!" Her heart dropped as she wondered what exactly Craig had told Joey.

"You want to tell her mom what happened? You can't do that, Joey!" Craig was yelling now.

"This is a big deal! If she doesn't get help, it could really mess her up." Joey's voice remained calm.

"She's already messed up, Joey! He was a drug dealer -- why do you think she went to him?" She recognized the desperation in his voice -- he was pleading with Joey not to tell on her.

Somewhere, beneath the pain, fear, and shame, she felt warm. He was defending her. Protecting her. Her knight in shining armor, come to make everything better.

She peeled off her shirt, wincing as the scab pulled free. She felt the blood washing down her chest as the wound was reopened. Her white bra was soon a pale pink. She sat down at the back of the fiberglass tub, pulling her legs to her chest. She rested her head on her knees, her matted hair wetting to her forehead.

She heard the door open, but didn't bother to lift her head.

"Ash?" Craig's voice broke through the steam. "There's a shirt and some pants on the counter."

She heard the rustle as he lay them down. His feet shuffled, and he sighed.

"Joey is calling your mom." He hesitated before continuing. "I think he's going to tell her. I tried to tell him not to, but I guess, in a way, he's right." He sighed again. "She should know."

She could picture him running his hand through his hair, like he always did when he was stressed out.

"I flushed the bag you left at the park that day." He said softly.

The door clicked shut as he stepped out, leaving her alone once more.

She was surprised to find that she didn't care that he had flushed the last of her stash. In some part of her, she knew he had done the right thing, while the other was screaming that if she had had that baggy, she wouldn't have gone to see Ziggy Stardust.

She stood and washed her hair, scrubbing her legs and stomach nearly raw with the luffa. She almost admired the swollen redness, realizing that it was probably as clean as she would ever feel again.

After she had dried herself off, she slipped into the clothes Craig had provided. An old Led Zeppelin concert tee and a worn pair of plaid pajama pants. They fit loosely around her thin frame, the pants sagging just under her hips.

As she quietly stepped out of the bathroom, she could hear her mother and Joey's voices. Silently, she crept towards Craig's bedroom -- she did want a confrontation with her mother right now. She just wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep the entire evening from her mind.

His door was open, and she could hear a Radiohead album playing softly. She was surprised to find him not in his bed, but also relieved. His bed was unmade, but she didn't mind. She crawled underneath his comforter and rolled onto her side, facing the wall.

She was drifting off when she felt a pressure on the side of the bed. She turned, seeing Craig leaning over the bed.

"Don't worry, I'm just grabbing my pillow." He smiled at her. "Your mom left awhile ago. She said you could crash here for the night."

He got up to leave, but she reached out for his wrist, stopping him.

"Stay." She pulled him down. "Don't leave me."

A flash of excitement danced across his features, but it was gone before she could catch it.

"You sure?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yea. I don't want to be alone." She said softly.

He shrugged and crawled under the covers, trying to chase the awkwardness of the situation from his mind. He turned away from her, but she reached for his shoulders and pulled him over. She laid her head down on his chest, in what could almost be called cuddling if it weren't for the circumstances.

He nervously brought an arm around her shoulders, holding her. He had to remind himself that this was nothing like what it used to be -- there was no sexual connotation to this. He was soon nodding off, his mind abuzz.

"Craig?" Her voice was fragile; he wondered if she had been crying.

"Unh, yea?" He replied groggily, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

-------

Author's Note: Thank you to all the loyal readers. It pains me to be asking for reviews like this, but I am very proud of this story, and would very much like to know what you all think of it! Please, give me your opinions! Constructive criticism is what drives the modern writer, and praise just pushes us on to make it better.

So please, be a good reader, and review. 


	6. A Paper Gown For a Paper Girl

Ashley's eyes fluttered open as a shaft of light shot across her face through the blinds. She brought a hand to her face, trying to shield her eyes and then go back to sleep, but to no avail.

She silently pulled herself out of Craig's embrace, slowly crawling off of the bed. As she stepped lightly off the bed, she heard him mutter something and roll over.

She padded to the bathroom, where she washed her face and finger-combed her hair. Looking at herself in the mirror, she noticed that she wasn't completely disgusted with what she was seeing.

She pulled the t-shirt's collar down, examining the cut on her collarbone. It had been opened during the night, and more pockets of blood had collected and dried. Sighing, she got out a washrag and gently scraped at it until it was clean. After foraging around the cabinets a bit, she came upon a bottle of peroxide. Holding a rag to catch the runoff, she poured some of it directly on her wound.

The tingle was not unlike that of the initial rush after a good hit off of some coke. It was a quick, rushing tingle that felt cold all over one second, then a wave of warmth would spread through your body. But this was a mere disinfectant, and it did not follow up with a gentle warming sensation, or a rip-roaring good high.

She glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and through the open door, she saw Joey. She flushed; she was embarassed. Although she knew he most likely understood, the entire ordeal from the night before and what she knew Craig had told him still made her ashamed. She wondered whether or not he had gone through with telling her mother.

After the disinfectant had done its job, Ashley tiptoed from the bathroom, attempting to enter the kitchen unseen and unheard from anyone in the Jeremiah household.

"I made some eggs, Ashley."

She spun around, instantly cursing herself for not seeing him. Joey was seated neatly at the kitchen table, eating toast and eggs with a cup of coffee. He smiled at her; she couldn't really manage a smile -- although she did turn a nice shade of red.

"You feeling okay today?" His brow knit with concern. "Your mom said to call her when you woke up. Want me to?"

"No, it's okay. I can do it." She shook her head lightly, her hair swaying en masse.

He nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his toast.

Joey let out a small sigh, and no more was said of the matter.

Once she had poured herself some milk, she sat across from him at the small kitchen table, in complete silence. The awkward tension was palpable.

The tension was broken as Craig stumbled dazedly into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As his eyes glanced upon Ashley, she could see his mind registering the events of the past night, recalling why his ex-girlfriend was sitting at his kitchen table in his clothes.

"Shouldn't you be calling your mom, Ashley?" Joey said, his light suggestion more of a direct command.

After calling her mom, Ashley had retired to Craig's room to await the imminent arrival. She lay on his bed, sprawled out, staring blankly at the ceiling. Craig's stereo played the Phantom Planet album she had given him last holiday -- she couldn't remember which one specifically. She hummed along to "In Our Darkest Hour", her fingers twitching in rhythm to the music. She closed her eyes lazily, falling into the chorus.

Her eyes shot open at the sound of a creaking floorboard.

"Oh, you're awake?" Kate's voice broke through the track. "I was trying to be quiet -- you looked asleep."

Kate stepped into the room and sat on the edge of Craig's bed. Ashley made no move to sit up or make eye contact. Her eyes were fixed on a tiny mildew stain on the ceiling.

Her cheeks grew hot as the silence settled between them. She bit her lip to keep from crying; she tasted blood, the tears already pooling. She tried to blink them away, but they came faster.

"Honey..." Kate's voice wavered as she leaned down and held her daughter, who began crying softly into her shoulder. "Shh, don't cry, don't cry. Momma's here."

Kate pulled her up and sat there, rocking Ashley's near limp form as the thin girl sobbed. She whispered words of comfort, kissing her forehead. Ashley continued to cry.

"M-Mom, I-I..." Ashley stuttered as she tried to keep from sniffling.

"Shh, honey, shh. It's alright." Kate hushed her softly.

"Mom, what am I going to do?" Ashley cried, burying her head in her mother's shoulder.

"I don't know, honey." Kate whispered, stroking Ashley's hair. "But you've got to see a doctor. I made you an appointment for you in half an hour."

Ashley cried even harder as she thought of the humiliation.

"Mom, I can't go to the cops..." She whimpered. "He'll kill me..."

"I won't let anything happen to you," Kate said boldly.

When they arrived at the doctor's office nearly an hour later, Ashley was a wreck. She had been crying on and off since Kate had picked her up. She hadn't bothered to change clothes or brush her hair; she still wore Craig's clothes and her hair stuck out in random places.

The doctor, a tough-looking middle-aged woman, ushered Kate and Ashley back to an examination room.

"I'm Dr. Watts, and you are..." She scanned her clipboard, "Ashley Kerwin?"

Ashley nodded, hoisting herself onto the examination table.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Kerwin?" Dr. Watts twiddled with the stethoscope around her neck.

"I was raped last night." Ashley whispered, staring at the ground.

Dr. Watts paused for a moment, glancing from Kate to Ashley.

"First, I can offer you a rape kit." Dr.Watts said, adjusting her glasses.

Kate glanced at Ashley and nodded her head.

"Yea, that's what I want." Ashley replied softly. "Can you make sure I don't get pregnant or have an STD?"

"I can give you an emergency contraceptive, and some antibiotics to reduce the risk of an STD." She paused again, jotting some things down on her clipboard. "I'll send a nurse in to do the kit. We're going to need the clothes you were wearing during the assault."

Ashley glanced at her mom.

"They're still at Craig's house, Mom." Ashley said.

"Craig? Is that your rapist?" Dr. Watts cocked an eyebrow.

"No, no! Craig? No." Kate exclaimed, visibly flustered.

"No offense meant, ma'am. It's just that eighty percent of rapes are done by someone the victim knows." Dr. Watts voice was reassuring; it seemed like she'd gone through all this many times before. "Would you like to report the rape to the police?"

"He said he'd kill me if I told anyone." Ashley shook her head. "He'll kill me."

Dr. Watts sighed; she had done this before.

"Nearly all of them say that." She smiled kindly at Ashley. "And now most of them are in jail."

"Can I think about it?" Ashley asked, kicking her legs absent-mindedly. "About reporting it?"

"Of course. I'll be right back with a nurse to do the exam." She pulled open a counter drawer and retrieved a paper gown. "I'll need you to put this on."

Dr. Watts shut the door behind her, and Ashley examined the paper gown. It was the kind that you see in movies, with no backside whatsoever. It had three cloth ties that laced up the back, but otherwise, it was au natural.

Ashley crawled off the examination table and went into the adjacent bathroom. When she emerged a moment later, in her thin paper gown, her eyes were wide with fear.

"Mom, I don't know if I want to do this." Ashley whispered quickly, her breath coming short.

"Honey, you have to do this; for your own safety." Kate's brow furrowed in concern. "Are you alright? You sound like you're having a panic attack." 


	7. Alligator Romance

Ashley nodded furiously and gasped for air, her eyes filling with tears. Kate hurried to her side, leading her to the examination table, and helping her onto it. Ashley laid back as Kate told her to breath.

Breath deep. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

As she exhaled deeply, Dr. Watts returned with a young nurse in tow. Her eyes softened at the sight of Ashley, but she quickly returned to business.

"Ashley, I have to tell you that this process is sometimes uncomfortable." Her voice was steady and even. "Not physically, by any means, but emotionally. The trauma of a rape is sometimes relived during a rape kit. If you feel like you can't handle it at any point in the kit, just say so and we'll stop. Alright?"

"Yea. Alright." Ashley whispered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Good then." Dr. Watts pulled a set of stirrups from beneath the table. "Mrs. Kerwin, you are most welcome to sit beside Ashley." She motioned to a rolling stool in the corner.

Ashley set her heels into the stirrups, staring into the fluorescent lighting of the hospital room. She glanced over at her mother, who had wheeled the stool next to the table. Kate smiled weakly at her daughter, her own worry visible in her eyes.

She reached out a hand, holding Ashley's within her own.

"Breathe, honey. Relax." Kate whispered, her hand aching from Ashley's death grip.

"Your mom's right. You've got to relax, or else it might be uncomfortable." Dr. Watts pulled out a tray full of instruments, most noticeably a speculum. "Just breathe deep."

Ashley took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Here we go." Dr. Watts picked up the speculum in her gloved hands. "Would you like me to tell you what I'm doing?"

"No." Ashley replied quickly, squeezing Kate's hand again.

Dr. Watts began the procedure, and Ashley began to feel herself rearing up once more. She'd seen on crime shows when the rape victim was devastated by the rape kit; she'd always thought it strange to be upset about something that was for the greater good of the situation.

Now, however, the thought was not so distant. It was real. Happening.

She felt herself seizing up, floating. This time, her ceiling-self's eyes were shut tight, unwilling to watch the scene below as before.

"Ashley?" Dr. Watts voice brought her ceiling-self down again. "Ashley? We're done with that part. I need to examine your face."

As she was brought back to the here-and-now, she failed to notice Kate's tears.

"What?" Ashley asked dazedly, the words fading in and out. "Oh. My face?"

"Yes. Were you assaulted anywhere else?" Dr. Watts calm voice was filtering through.

"I have a cut on my chest." Ashley replied, removing her feet from the stirrups and clamping her legs shut.

Ashley pulled the gown down, showing Dr. Watts the wound. It was red and swollen, small red lines running from it.

"Yep, it's infected." Dr. Watts said, nodding. "I can prescribe the antibiotics that'll clear it up within a week. What was used?"

"What?" Ashley's brow knit in confusion.

"What did he use to cut you? A knife? A razor blade?"

"Oh. A knife."

"Add a tetanus shot to the list." Dr. Watts motioned to the nurse. "And can you clean that up? Some gauze over it would be fine." She turned to Ashley. "I'll be back with the tetanus shot and a shot of ceftriaxone -- for any possible STDs. Mrs. Kerwin, are you alright?"

"Yes," She sniffled. "I'll be fine."

Ashley turned to her mother. Kate's eyes were puffy from crying and her nose was red. She smiled weakly at her daughter.

"I'm fine, honey." She said. "Just a little upset, that's all."

The nurse, who introduced herself as Sara, quickly cleaned Ashley's cut. Ashley hissed as the disinfectant bit into the gash. Sara spread some clinical neosporin over it, then taped it up with gauze. She smiled and left quickly, barely giving Ashley or Kate time to thank her.

When Dr. Watts returned, she carried with her the vaccine and a prescription pad. 

"Your arm will be sore for a few days afterwards, but the shot itself is generally painless." Dr. Watts said as she swabbed Ashley's arm with alcohol.

Ashley winced at the initial prick of the needle, but quickly realized it was indeed a nearly painless injection. She smiled at the sight of the Sesame Street bandaid Dr. Watts put over it. Dr. Watts moved to her other arm, and quickly injected the ceftriaxone. The needle entry was painless, but the actual injection left a biting ache in her arm.

"Now, I'm going to prescribe Plan B. It's an emergency contraceptive. There are two pills, and you can take both of them at once." She paused, glancing from Kate to Ashley. "As long as you take it within the 120 hour window after unprotected intercourse, you should be fine."

She scribbled something on a notepad.

"You can pick it up at your pharmacy. And I'm also prescribing some Keflex -- this is for the infection in the cut on your chest. Take the pills once a day before you go to sleep. Don't take it on an empty stomach or I promise you will throw up. You'll also need two metronidazole -- also for STDs. Take both pills at once. Doxycycline is another one; take it twice a day for a week." She paused, making sure Ashley and Kate had got all that. "An empty stomach is most definitely a no-no for at least a week."

She ripped the slip of paper from the pad and handed it to Kate.

"So I guess we're done here." She smiled broadly. "Ashley, come back in two weeks for a follow up." She looked to Kate. "You can schedule an appointment on your way out."

"Thanks." Kate smiled, wiping her eyes. "Thanks a lot."

"Don't worry. You two have a good day." Dr. Watts exited quickly.

"Dr. Watts?" Ashley called.

"Yes?" Dr. Watts poked her head back in the door.

"I'd like to report it."

Dr. Watts smiled.

"I'll be glad to give the police a heads up." She stepped inside. "I'll have a nurse draw up the necessary paperwork saying that you want to report it. They should call you in for an interview within the next few days. Sound good?"

Ashley nodded, staring at the floor once more. A nagging fear clawed at her heart, making her cold to her very core.

She wondered what would happen if Mouse wasn't kidding. What if he got to her before the cops got to him? Her mind reeled as she trudged from the hospital to the car.

The car ride home was a blur; she found herself muttering monosyllabic words in response to her mother's chatter. Nervous chatter. In her mind, Ashley scoffed. After all, what did Kate have to be nervous about?

Ashley remembered the retelling of Paige's rape trial. Maybe she could call Paige and get some advice about the entire thing. On second thought, Paige wasn't exactly the person you would tell your secrets to.

Her thoughts came to a halt as the night went on. She spent the evening lying on her bed in a daze, the flicker of the lightbulb the only changing presence. As the evening turned into early morning, she found that her eyes had never closed.

She turned to glance at the digital clock at her bedside: four twenty nine. She picked up her phone, quickly dialing the number.

She had never expected anyone to answer, anyway.

The midafternoon sun was high above the Isaacs-Kerwin household before Ashley had stirred from her sound but terrifying sleep. Her dreams were wrought with images of a scalpel wielding drag queen singing along to old Bowie tunes.

She awoke with an incessant voice chiming in her head.

K. K. K. K. K. K. K. K makes good things come your way!

The little rhyme looped continuously.

She remembered a drugged out club kid gyrating to some deejay's mix shouting it out at the top of his lungs.

Riley had pulled her aside and drunkenly pointed him out.

"That," He slurred, "Is Liam. Having the time of his bloody life, he is." 


	8. The Exit of Lady Luck

Ashley had laughed and continued to dance to thumping music, the black lights making every move seem disjointed. Riley gripped her waist and pulled her back to him, his movements slowed by the alcohol.

"We can have the time of our lives, too, you know." He whispered thickly in her ear.

She had turned and smiled coyly, grinding her hips against his in time with the music. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. He grabbed her hand and stumbled towards a back room, near the oxygen bar.

He tripped, falling softly into an old couch that smelled strongly of booze and some unknown stink. He rummaged through the pockets of his jacket, retrieving a baggy of pills.

"Time of your life, love." He opened the bag and deposited one of the alligator-monogrammed pills on his tongue.

Ashley smiled hesitantly as he offered her one.

"What? Don't believe in fun in old Canada?" He laughed, his breath thick with the smell of vodka and weed.

She gave him a defiant grin and popped the pill into her mouth, swallowing the chalky substance in one gulp.

"Cheers!" She said, swigging down a drink from an open beer on the floor.

She smiled softly as she remembered the first feelings of intoxication as the alligator swam swiftly through her veins. The blacklights and glowsticks seemed to have an ethereal ring around them. She felt her heart began to beat with the bass as a warmth spread through her fingertips.

Riley had regained a bit of composure and pulled her off to the oxygen bar, where an older club kid gave them a light show. The twirling glowsticks sent her mind in a blurred spin of color and she found herself happier than she had ever been. The music seemed to get louder as every light got brighter.

She tried to shake the longing that had gripped her. She really needed a buzz. She could hear Toby clacking away at his keyboard. She got up and poked her head in his room.

"Hey, Tobes. Where's my mom?" She asked him hazily.

"Work. It's Tuesday." Toby barely glanced at her.

She sighed, resigning to let him be. Work. Jeff and her mom were both working, and wouldn't be home until around seven or so.

She wandered into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets. After a few moments of scouring every shelf, she came upon her prize. A nearly fully bottle Crown Royal was wrapped neatly in the purple bag, sitting behind the herbs and spices. Her parents rarely drank the stuff -- it was merely a holiday treat. She held the bottle and bag in her hands as if she had just received the holy grail.

The soft cotton bag slipped smoothly from the bottle, the amber liquid swishing comfortably within the patterned bottle. The bottle itself was gorgeous. She gently unscrewed the cap, inhaling the tart scent.

She tiptoed back to her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She crawled onto the bed, clicking her television on. Daytime television. She didn't mind the soap operas, though.

She curled under an afghan and sipped from the bottle. The crown burned her throat as it chased down her throat, the taste sweet and satisfying. She held the bottle close, sipping quietly as Maryanne found out that she had been adopted from her boyfriend's parents.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Ashley has nearly drained the whiskey. She knew herself to be a happy drunk, but this time, she found herself more mellow than when she had smoked an eighth in two hours. She smiled lazily, the world around her behind a plate glass window, like an exhibit at a museum.

Around eight, Kate had knocked softly on her door. Ashley quickly forced the bottle under the comforter and pretended to be asleep. She heard her mother sigh softly and quietly shut the door.

Ashley smiled broadly.

Hours later, the empty bottle glared at her from its resting place on her night table. It screamed to be refilled, to be full of sweet whiskey once more. Ashley covered her ears to try and drown out its screams, but nothing could placate it.

She knew herself to be quite drunk, but she had never heard a bottle scream before. In desperation to stop the cries, she thrust the bottle into the bottom of closet, under a mountain of shoes and childhood relics.

"Out of sight, out of mind." She whispered as the screams died to silence.

She slid back into bed, staring at the ceiling. She glanced at the digital clock. One o'clock or so. AM. She knew this would be a long night.

The next few days dragged on endlessly. Ashley slept through the days and searched for any way to get a buzz at night. The collection of empty bottles in her closet had grown to include over-the-counter medication and cough syrup.

If you take enough of anything, you're bound to get somewhere.

As the line between day and night blurred into a grey monotony, days became weeks. Ashley could vaguely see her mother's dim outline standing in her doorway during her brief moments of consciousness.

Kate and Jeff let her sleep. She knew it was because they thought that this was her way of coping. They hadn't noticed the little things missing from their cabinets. Ashley didn't mind the idea that they were unconcerned. She would have rather have been left alone. Her night-time binges had quelled the nightmares with astonishing success. She knew that the night's intoxicant had worn off when her sound, empty sleep flooded with images of the London raves and a repetitive scream. The scream was what woke her up.

To a stranger's ears, if it were not in her head, it would have sounded like a shriek of pain and desperation. Amid the flashing images of the raves, the scream repeated over and over again, the black light mingling with the red and blue of an ambulance.

She inhaled sharply as Riley's face looked back at her, his mouth agape and eyes startlingly vacant. His pupils were dilated to the point that only a thin, green line surrounded them.

She shook her head furiously, attempting to throw his face from her mind, her memories. Nothing sufficed. She could hear the screaming; it took her awhile to realize that she had been the one making those terrible noises.

She shook his shoulders roughly, crying for him to get up. A thin dribble of blood fell from his open mouth, creating a perfect circle on the damp concrete. Around her, a crowd had gathered, most too addled by cocaine to realize that something was wrong. Someone clapped at the back of the crowd.

Performance art.

She shot up, gasping for breath as the haunting images halted abruptly. She scrambled out of bed and began to rifle through her drawers, searching for her bottle of Hydrocodone.

She rejoiced inwardly for her mother's minor back pain.

Her hands grasped for the bottle, and upon finding it, promptly took off the cap and swallowed twelve of the rectangular pills dry. Her hands shook as she tried to close the cap, shaking so badly that the cap and bottle fell to the floor with a clatter. The remaining pills rolled about her floor. She scrambled to pick them up but found that her hands couldn't grasp the little things.

Giving up, she crawled back into her bed, burying her head under the covers as she waited for the onset of the Hydrocodone. Within fifteen minutes, she felt herself mleting into her mattress, her skin meshing into the fabric of her bedsheets.

Every muscle in her body relaxed. She felt a slight tingle travel up her spine as she continued to dissolve into her bed. Her eyelids became heavy and soon shut over her dilated pupils, ushering her into a deaf world of silent ravers gyrating to a soundless music.

Riley ran up to her, his mouth moving as she struggled to hear his words. Despite the silence, she understood what he was saying as he held up his hand, revealing twenty round, green discs, all emblazoned with a four leaf clover.

"Feeling lucky?" He mouthed.

He picked out ten and tried to pass them to her. She shook her head, plugging one nostril with a finger and making a motion, mouthing to him that she had already had a line or two.

He smiled and shrugged, taking the ten he had alotted to her and popping them into his mouth. He produced a flask from his pocket and brought it to his lips, drinking from it as if it were the sweet nectar of life.

He sighed, slipping the rest into his jacket pocket alongside his flask. He reached for her hand and pulled her outside into the brisk London air.

She shivered as the cold coiled itself around her. He laughed silently, pulling her to him and rubbing her arms quickly, trying to generate warmth. He kissed her softly, holding her to him, wrapping his coat around the both of them.

She felt into his embrace, her euphoric mind racing as they kissed. A sudden taste of iron caused her to pull from his warmth. She raised a hand to her mouth, wiping a finger across her tongue.

Even under the poor light of the street lamp, she could see that it was clearly blood on her hand. She spat, her saliva tinted pink. Riley raised a hand to his own mouth, his hand coming back traced with blood.

He, too, spit, his own saliva a deep red. He looked at Ashley, a frightened look she had never seen before apparent in his eyes. He reached for her hand as his step faltered, but she drew back from him.

She saw him mouth her name as he fell to his knees, shaking. Droplets of blood spackled the concrete as he called out to her.

"Ashley, help me." 


	9. Muddled Resurrection

She awoke once more, hearing the cries of her nightmares coming from her own mouth. A brief storm up the stairs produced her mother, her face stricken with panic. She rushed to her daughter's bedside, hugging her to her breast. Ashley sobbed loudly into Kate's chest, as Kate stroked her daughter's damp hair.

"Ashley, it's alright, honey, it's alright." She cooed, shushing her softly. "It's alright."

Ashley sobbed louder, pushing Kate roughly from her.

"No! It's not alright!" Ashley's voice rose. "It'll never be alright!"

"Honey..." Kate reached for her but was slapped away.

"Just go away!" Ashley screamed, her thin hands covering her ears. "I'm fine, I'm fucking fine!"

Kate stepped back, her mouth slightly agape. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Kate stumbled backwards, nearly landing on Toby. Toby frowned, his eyes darting from Kate to Ashley.

"Aren't you going to do something?" He asked.

Kate sighed, raising her hands in surrender. She hurried out of the room, her heavy footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. Ashley continued to cry, her face buried in a round pillow with a huge smiley face on it.

"What is wrong with you?" Toby asked incredulously, cocking an eyebrow.

"Get the fuck out!" Ashley shrieked, throwing the damp pillow at her doorway.

She heard him make a sound of disgust as he walked back towards his own room. Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself, her attempt at steady breaths interrupted by shaking sobs. Her hands shook as she grabbed a sweatshirt from a pile of clothes on her bureau. Tugging it over her head, she slipped a pair of tennis shoes on and stepped lightly onto the carpet.

She smoothed her unwashed hair against her damp cheeks, walking determinedly for the front door. As she passed her parents' closed bedroom door, she overheard their heated words.

"I don't know what to do, Jeff." She heard tears in her mother's voice. "I knew she'd have some issues after everything, but I didn't think it'd be this bad!"

"We'll get her a therapist, and see how that goes." She heard Jeff sigh. "We'll get through this."

Kate sobbed quietly, Jeff moving to hold her. Ashley could hear him whispering soothing words to her. It made her sick to her stomach. A new fire burning inside of her, she stormed to the front door, slamming it shut as she stepped into the brisk night air.

The cold bit into her legs. She wished she had grabbed some sweats, instead of wandering off into the night in a pair of boy shorts. The icy blades of grass crunched beneath her heavy footsteps as she found herself walking along Craig's block.

She shivered as she stepped onto his porch, hesitating before punching the doorbell. The shrill ring startled her. Angela appeared, peeking through a crack in the door.

"Yes?" Her small voice was muffled by the oak door.

"Hey, Angie!" Ashley feigned a smile. "Is Craig home?"

"...yea." Angie opened the door, then turned, returning to her place on the couch, SpongeBob prancing across the screen.

Ashley breathed a sigh of contentment as she stepped inside the Jeremiah home, the warmth rushing over her. The scent of a pot roast caused her to salivate, her empty stomach growling. She wondered how long it had been since she had had more than liquor.

"Who was at the door, Ang?" Craig came around the corner, wiping his hands on a red and white checkered apron.

His eyes fell upon Ashley, his cheeks turning a pleasant shade of red.

"Ash! Hey!" He tugged the knot from the apron and quickly tugged it off. "Haven't heard from you in awhile." He smiled uneasily, tossing the apron on the couch.

"I've been kind of out of it." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, not much. School, y'know." He shrugged. "Missed you there."

"School?" Ashley's eyes widened. "When did it start?"

"Last week." Craig's brow furrowed. "You really have been out of it, haven't you?"

"Yea, guess so." Ashley sighed, pulling out a chair for herself. "How's that going? School, I mean."

"You know, school is just...school." Craig shrugged nonchalantly. "Ellie's been asking about you. I couldn't really tell her anything, I mean, your mom never said a word when I called."

"Yea..." Ashley made patterns on the tile with her shoes. "So how about some pot roast?"

Craig laughed, making her a plate. Before his hand had even left it, she pounced on the food, devouring it like a rabid carnivore.

"God, I was starving!" She exclaimed through a mouthful.

Craig just nodded, a look of bemused disbelief on his face.

The front door clicked open, and the sound of a briefcase being set down on the tile was heard. Angie jumped form the couch and ran towards the door. Craig sat up, giving Ashley a signal for 'one second'.

"Hey, Joey!" He sounded like he wanted something. "Guess who decided to drop by?"

She heard an audible sigh.

"Yea, I know. Ashley. Her mom called me at work." Joey's voice didn't sound entirely pleased. "We're not a halfway house, Craig."

"What? No, no, no. It's not like that. Maybe just for the night?" Craig grinned hopefully.

"Craig...one night." Joey frowned. "Don't you have group tonight?"

"Yea, but I was going to skip it because Ashley's here." Craig pointed back to the dining room.

"No, you should go." Joey paused for a second. "Better yet, take her with you."

Craig shrugged and turned back towards the kitchen. Sighing, he sank into the chair opposite her.

"So Joey says you can crash here." He said nonchalantly, popping a carrot in his mouth. "On one condition."

"I could hear you guys talking." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh." He blushed. "Well then...you want to shower and get ready? Groups in forty five minutes."

Ashley shrugged complacently.

"Sure. Whatever."

"Oh-kay...I'll get you some clothes, then." He kissed her softly on the cheek.

She sighed loudly as soon as he was out of earshot. Ashley drummed her fingers along the countertop.

"Woohoo. Group."

A half an hour later, Craig and Ashley stepped off the bus and onto the damp street. Craig grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as he led her into the building.

"I'll just wait for you down at the coffee house, 'kay?" Ashley feigned a smile, trying to pull her hand away.

"No, no, no." Craig held on, locking his arm around her waist. "This has helped me more than you know. You made me go. Now I'm making you go."

"Craig, I don't want to tell a bunch of strangers about my problems." Ashley stopped walking, her words echoing through the stairwell.

"They're not strangers. They're friends." He released her waist, clasping both her hands in his. "This is a good thing."

"Okay." She looked him directly in the eyes. "Okay."

Smiling, he kissed her on the cheek.

"You won't regret this." He smiled even wider. "I promise."

Craig bounded up the next few flights of stairs, with Ashley half-heartedly following. When they reached the heavy double doors, Ashley paused. Craig quickly sidestepped her, pushing them open.

"Hey, El!" He waved exuberantly across the room to Ellie.

Ellie smiled, her expression turning to concern at Ashley. She strode over to them, a paper cup of complimentary kool-aid in her ring-laden hand.

"Ash! Though you'd dropped off the face of the planet." Ellie laughed uneasily, taking a sip.

"Nope." Ashley smiled sardonically. "Gravity killed that plan."

"Ash, I want you to meet Clarke." Craig smiled at Ellie and pulled Ashley away towards a non-descript twenty-something. "Clarke! This is Ashley."

"Hey, Craig!" The two shook hands. "Ah, the famous Ashley, it's a pleasure." He extended a hand for her to shake, but she didn't return the gesture. "So, what made you decide to accompany Craig to the meeting tonight?"

"Actuall-" Ashley started, but was cut off by Craig.

"Oh, you know, the usual!" He glanced at Ashley, silently pleading with her to relax.

"The usual? Heh..." Clarke nodded uncomfortably. "Well, then, let's get started. Can I have everybody take a seat?"

Fifteen or so people shuffled over to the circle of lump, plastic chairs. Ashley turned to Craig, her chair scraping the linoleum.

"Can we go? Please?" She rested a hand on his knee. "Please? I just want to go."

"Ash, you need this." He whispered reassuringly. "Breathe."

"Okay, so we have a newcomer here tonight. Ashley, this is everyone, everyone, Ashley." Clarke smiled and pointed her out.

A few muttered "hello"s filled the vacuous room. Ashley grabbed Craig's hand, entwining her fingers with his.

"You want to tell us a little about why you're here?" Clarke smiled, his hands folded in his lap.

Ashley paused, a heavy silence settling over the group.

"Well...um...I-I was raped." 


	10. The Ascension

Saying the words aloud sent a chill up her spine. Rape. It sounded so foreign in her head.

Clarke smiled broadly. Were it not for being group, Ashley would have been frightened by his expression. But surrounded by people who seem genuinely interested in one another, it took on a warmer tone.

"You've taken the first step, Ashley." Clarke clasped his hands together. "Alright, who's next?"

Over an hour later, Ashley and Craig boarded the bus. Craig held her hand tightly and pulled her into a seat.

"I'm really proud of you." He said, sitting his chin on top of her head as she leaned against his shoulder. "I didn't think group would go that well."

"Neither did I." Ashley snaked her arm around his waist. "Thanks for making me go."

"Thank Joey when we get home." Craig chuckled. "He can be an ass but he just tries to do what's best for me. For us."

She rolled her eyes at him, letting the steady motion of the bus lull her into a sleepy haze. She wanted to stay like this forever; the brink between awake and sleeping, where the only thing you feel is warmth and comfort away from the reality.

Her eyes flew open: this was like the drugs.

"You okay?" Craig asked, rubbed her shoulder softly. "You jumped."

"Yea, fine." She feigned a smile. "Are we almost home? God, this bus takes forever."

The bus screeched to a halt, jostling Craig and Ashley from their seat.

"Here." Craig said sarcastically.

Even though it was still early evening, they both changed into pajamas and lay in Craig's bed. His television was on, the flicker giving off an eery blue glow.

Ashley lay beside him, closest to the wall. She pulled the covers tight around her chin and scooted closer to him. She had missed this in London. Riley was her friend, her confidante, but never her lover. She shivered at the thought of him. He had had so much talent.

"Craig?" She said his name quietly, secretly hoping he didn't hear her.

"Yea?" He rolled over to face her, their legs becoming entangled.

"I'm scared." She felt her body begin to shake. "I don't think I can do it."

"Do what?" His brow furrowed in concern.

"Be like this." She curled into herself. "Who am I? Who is this person?"

"You're Ashley Kerwin." He grabbed her palm, tracing the lines with his fingertips. "You're seventeen going on ninety, you've got a great sense of humor, a beautiful smile, a laugh that makes me melt..."

He leaned over, his lips gently grazing hers.

"And I love you." He whispered.

She pulled herself closer to him, kissing him once more. His hands groped for her waist and he held her as they kissed. She tugged his shirt over his head, then tossed it to the ground. Her own t-shirt soon joined. As they kissed and groped and touched one another, a fleeting image of the swaying nightmare flashed in Ashley's mind.

She made a noise similar to that of a frightened kitten. In seconds, she was below the comforter once more, her back to him.

"Ash?" Craig's voice was tinged with concern. "What's wrong?"

She mumbled something into the blankets, her shoulders beginning to shake as she cried.

"Ash, talk to me." He pleaded as he stroked her hair. "You've got to talk to me."

"I'm fucked up." She whispered harshly. "This. This is fucked up."

"No, you're not." He replied softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're here with me and that's all that matters."

"What if being with you doesn't fix me?" She asked, her eyes wide. "I don't want to be like this."

"Like what?" Craig grabbed for her hand but she pulled away.

"This. Neurotic. Moody." She spat the words out as if they were poison.

"You've had a shit time since you got back from London, you have to admit." He said calmly, forcibly grasping her hand. "You can go to therapy. It really helps."

"So I go to group with you for the rest of my life?" She tried to pull her hand from him once more, but he held it tight.

"There's a rape survivors' group on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I think Paige went for awhile before court." He squeezed her hand supportively. "You've gone through the worst part when it comes to kicking the drugs. Withdrawals are gone, aren't they?"

She nodded faintly, wondering what pills she could find in Craig's medicine cabinet. She knew he took some form of Lithium, but she wondered if he still had the Ambien from when he was having trouble sleeping. A few of those and she would be blissfully numb for two or three days.

"Look, trust me." He pulled her close. "Everything will be fine. You'll go back to school, get into therapy. It's all going to be a-okay. Capiche?"

She smiled; God, she loved him.

"Capiche."

She dreamt that she and Riley were dancing in the rain, on the rooftop of their flat. They laughed as they tossed their shoes to the street below, giggling as they heard one of her heels hit a car. She remembered the mountain-sized lines that they had snorted before silently creeping up the fire escape.

The K made her mind swirl with the lights of the city, the rain only intensifying the effect. Each raindrop felt like a waterfall. Riley grabbed her hands as they spun in circles, laughing and squealing as the rain fell harder.

"Dare me to jump off the roof!" He had shouted, leaping to the bricked edge, his hand over his heart.

"No!" She had laughed, falling back onto her elbows. "I know you'll do it if I dare you to."

"Well," he paused, saluting her. "You're loss."

He jumped. She had shrieked, running to the edge. Peering down, she heard him laughing hysterically as she saw him standing a few feet below on a landing.

"You are such an ass." She had said, hoisting him back up.

"Oh, but you know you love me," he had giggled as he struggled to get his long legs over the edge.

A soft nudge woke her from her sleep. One eye opened, squinting at the band of sunlight that seemed intent on blinding her. Craig was sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging a pair of jeans over his boxers. His back tensed as he felt her move.

"Awake?" He asked softly, glancing behind him, his damp hair dripping into his eyes.

"Mmff." She murmured into a pillow, pulling the covers over her head.

"Your mom called. Said she wanted you to go to school." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You up to it?"

"Do I have a choice?" She groaned, tossing the covers off, then, quickly realizing that she was still topless, tugging them back up.

He laughed at her, pulling them back down. He leaned over, inches from her face.

"It's not like you have anything I haven't seen," he whispered, quickly kissing her.

A tingle ran up her spine. A thought scurried through her head: maybe Craig could be her drug of choice. His mere presence sent her into a brief fit of euphoria. Maybe she didn't need a chemical to lift her above it all.

She decided to dwell on it later.

"We should leave soon," Craig said, paying no attention to her glassy expression. "I still have some of your clothes from before you left. You've lost a lot of weight since then, but they'll do for now, right?"

She nodded, only half-hearing him. He was so cute, she thought. He pulled a pair of her jeans and a faded t-shirt from his bureau, tossing them on the bed. He picked her bra from the floor, handing it to her.

"Hey," he sat beside her, crossing his legs. "You feeling better today?"

"Yea, sure," she nodded nonchalantly, clasping her bra. "Thanks for putting up with me."

"Eh, it's nothing." He stretched back leisurely, his hands behind his head. "You put up with my shit - it's only natural that I return the favor."

She shrugged in agreement, sliding the jeans over her thighs. They were noticeably big. Parachute-like, even.

After she had washed her face and briefly applied some of Caitlyn's leftover make-up, Craig poked his head in the bathroom.

"Ready? We're kinda running late." His smile instantly brightened her mood.

"Ready." 


	11. Relapse Behavior

The halls of Degrassi Community School burned with that sick fluorescent lighting. The harsh glow burned Ashley's eyes and she tried not to wince. She saw the sideward glances thrown in her direction. She must have looked fairly haggard to warrant such looks. She self-consciously smoothed her hair.

Craig chuckled at her, reaching for her hand and interlacing their fingers.

"Your hands are cold," he observed, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

"I'm terrified," she replied, her eyes never stationary for a second.

Her sweeping glance took in the walls, the windows, the doorways, locker numbers, the passing figures. She took it all in as if for the first time. The air smelled new, tasted new.

Not new.

Unfamiliar.

It didn't matter that she had attended the same school since grade seven; not now, none of it mattered. Paranoia began to set in. She was lacking in basic motor functions for a few seconds, her breath coming in short gasps. It passed as quickly as it had set in, the tension in her throat releasing.

The rapid clacking of heels on tile came up from behind them. A perfectly manicured hand snaked Ashley's arm from Craig, pulling her aside.

"Oh my gawd! Ashley!" Paige Michalchuk air-kissed her, holding Ashley's shoulders; there was nowhere to run. "Where have you been? How have you been? Oh, you've lost so much weight! You've got to tell me what you're doing!"

At Ashley's pained, frightened expression, Paige pursed her lips and frowned.

"No offense, sweetie, but you are looking a little worse for wear. Come over and a nice girl's night in will fix you all up!" She smiled, patting Ashley on the cheek.

Before Paige had finished her sentence, Hazel called from around the corner.

"Oh! Gotta run, ciao!" Another air-kiss, and she was off.

Ashley just stood still for a moment, her back against the cool lockers. Craig leaned beside her.

"What just happened?" Ashley asked, looking ahead.

"Hurricane Paige," Craig chuckled, grabbing her hand once more. "Come on, we're going to be late."

When they reached the office doors, the warning bell rang sharply above their hands. Murmuring "good luck," he kissed her forehead and ran toward his class. Sighing, Ashley quietly let herself in.

The secretary barely raised an eye at her, merely glancing over the rims of her cateye glasses, beaded chain dangling on her neck. Her brightly painted lips smacked chewing gum as the light tapping of a keyboard resonated in the silent room.

"Ahem," Ashley cleared her throat, trying to get her attention --no such luck. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" The woman raised an eyebrow and studied Ashley closely. "Need something?"

"I-I need my...my schedule." The woman's stare made Ashley blush furiously.

"Name?" Her shrill voice crackled throughout the room.

"Kerwin. Ashley." Ashley's word were absorbed into the air almost immediately upon leaving her lips, the soft echo cushioning the silence.

"Here." The woman snatched a newly printed sheet from the ancient box printer in the corner. "Don't be too late, you already missed the first week!"

Ashley was too nervous to even reply, and she saw herself out of the office as quickly as possible. The shrew-woman had made her realize how little she wanted to deal with people.

She walked down the empty halls with an old messenger bag of Craig's held tightly to her chest. She kept her chin tucked down, avoiding the glances of faculty, stray students.

Slipping quietly into the back of Ms.Kwan's senior English class, Ashley noticed a few turned heads, one belonging to Hazel Aden. Hazel cocked an eyebrow as she surveyed Ashley's outfit - a small snort escaped her throat.

Ashley felt her face heat and turn red. Her neck burned with embarassment. She rested her head in her hands, not moving for the entire period.

The bell startled her awake all too soon. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, following the herd of classmates into the hall, melting into the crowd and obscurity.

Upon her exit, she headed directly towards the bathroom.

She looked herself up and down in the wall mirror. straightening her shirt, pulling at it. She sighed, mussing her hair with her hands, trying to get it go one direction.

Nothing looked right.

She fingered the crooks of her elbows, pressing the soft flesh with her fingers, feeling the vein pulsing, ready for a needle to pierce it and administer a sweet reprieve from it all.

She began to lightly scratch at the perfect place, the target mark for the needle if she had the fortune to have one. Oh, heroin! Morphine! No one injected K anymore, but it would go down smoother than snorting it -- falling backwards into the K-hole and stumbling from the surprise as opposed to slipping down into the warmth like dipping your toes into the swimming pool first.

The door thumped around the corner and the cold click of two sets of heels echoed off the tiles. Ashley snapped from her craving, grabbing the bag from the floor and slipping inside one of the far stalls. She lifted her feet up onto the seat; it wasn't that she necessarily felt like hiding, but that she wanted a few tender moments to reminisce on past binges. Her veins practically throbbed for the quick pinch of the needle and lava-like warmth that slowly lapped at her fingertips as the substance of choice spread throughout her body.

Meanwhile, the heels had stopped in front of the heavy sinks, purses open and their contents spilled upon the speckled plastic countertops. Hazel Aden carefully applied a fresh coat of golden lip gloss while Paige Michalchuk pulled at her perfectly curled locks.

"My hair looks so stringy today!" Paige pulled at the offending ringlet; it bounced back into position.

"You look fine," Hazel assured her. "And if you have any doubts, just thank God you're not Ashley Kerwin."

"Oh? I saw her today, right before class. She looks so thin," Paige sighed, her lower lip jutting out. "I'm so jealous."

"Don't be," Hazel snorted. "I heard she got pregnant or something and got a back-alley abortion. It's the abortion diet."

"Ohmigod! Who told you that?" Paige put her hands on her hips. "Hazel, it sounds like a load of shit to me, but my GAWD! Imagine: Craig has two girls abort his kids before he even graduates high school. Total downer."

Hazel laughed, reassembling her makeup and tossing it loosely into her designer-knock-off bag.

"We're gonna be late," she mentioned, sliding the strap over her shoulder. "You know how Simpson gets when people are tardy. Especially us."

The two girls giggled and left the bathroom as noisily as they had came. Ashley let out an extended sigh of relief as she heard the door click shut.

Simpson. Media Immersion. She mentally kicked herself. That was the next class on her schedule, too.

From the sounds coming outside of the bathroom, she still had two or three minutes until the halls would clear. She tried to leave the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible, slipping behind a fairly large, laughing group of freshmen -- so young! She wondered if she had ever been that young and innocent.

Nevermind. She focused on the people surrounded the side doors. Ever since Rick had died, teachers were usually stationed around all the doors. Rumors circulated the halls of security cameras and guards.

Alas, the door was left unguarded, and with a slight push, she broke free into the outside world, the morning sun shining into the hallway as if it were the light of God.

Blinkingly, into the sun, she ran down the street, her worn shoes padding softly on the warm asphalt. She didn't look back until she was a safe block away, and even then, she resisted the urge to check her tracks -- maybe she wanted to be seen, to be caught.

She waited patiently for the next bus, her thin legs curled underneath her on the bench, her back to a metal poster advertising The Healthy Way To Christ.

She didn't bother to read it.

She already knew the way to her salvation. 


	12. Spun Out In No Time

NOTE: I know updates are usually infrequent but a lot of personal things have kept me from churning out chapters like a machine. But here is a new one, so I'm obviously trying. Remember to review!

The bus pulled up smoothly, the scene interrupted by the loud screeching of the jake-brake. Ashley nearly leapt up the steps before the door had even opened all the way. Flashing her bus-pass, she quickly settled into a middle seat, setting her bag beside her so as to ward off potential seatmates.

Her blood pumped furiously with adrenalin as the bus route weaved toward the Arts District. In her head, she planned out the places she intented to scope for potential pushers.

The first stop would be the park next to the art museum -- midmorning, plenty of resident artist types would be sitting around the fountain sipping seven dollar mochachinos.

And if no source was to be found there, she opted to continue on to the street mall only a few blocks down from the park. The street mall, affectionately called Hazy Lane, was a popular haunt for performing street artists, down-and-out circus performers. and other such social misfits panhandling for a living.

She couldn't remember a time when she had had to look so hard for a fix. With Riley, it had always been one phone call and a quick delivery to their flat.

Riley.

No time to think about the past.

She walked briskly from the busy street to the park, the iron gates singing as if to take her in from the harshness of Downtown.

The trees hung low and soft on the shadowed sidewalk, creating a surreal tunnel of foliage and shrubbery. The light tinted green as it filtered through the leaves, falling across the sidewalk in veins of light and shadow.

A bit further down the path, the trees opened into a clearing, the center of which was a large stone fountain.

The round base curved down into the basin, then shot upward in concrete waves, what appeared to be an oversized halibut riding the crest, water bubbling from its pursed fish-lips. A moist cigarette butt stood upright on the head, a tar stain creeping down the side.

She sighed in relief as she noticed a tall, thin man standing to the side of the crowd of young students, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes darted from side to side; paranoia.

Gathering up her courage and every sort of small talk she had ever heard, she strolled up beside him as if it were the most natural thing for her to do.

His head barely turned at her presence, but she could see he was looking her over out of the corner of his eye.

"Haven't seen you around here before," he said, bringing a rolled cigarette to his lips. "New in the area?"

"You could say that," she shrugged nonchalantly. "Mind if I bum a drag?"

"The tobacco's pretty shitty," he chuckled, licking his finger and correcting a crease in the paper. "But the roll's pretty good."

He handed her the cigarette, watching her as she inhaled on it. She opened her mouth and let the smoke curl out, then quickly inhaled through her nose. He smiled.

"You like to party, New Girl?"

She tried to hide her excitement.

"That's actually why I came here," she replied coolly. "Maybe you could get me some blow or some K?"

"Oh, a hardcore." His hand snaked around her shoulder. "I like that in a girl."

Ashley pushed the urge to bolt out of her mind and focused on the benefits of leading this stranger on. She bit her lip coyly.

"I've only got enough for a gram -- can you get me that much?" Ashley peered up into his gaunt face, forcing a smile.

"Anything for you, New G-- what's your name?" His hand moved from her shoulder to her waist. "Mine's Geoff."

"Ashley," she shimmied out of his grasp. "The sooner we have that G, the sooner we can party."

"Determined. Fiendish, even." He laughed, turning to a curly-haired young woman beside him.

Their heads bent low in conversation, Ashley noticed the woman glance at her from behind Geoff's stringy mane of hair. A few hushed words were exchanged and Geoff emerged smiling. He grabbed his backpack and pointed to a bike laying next to a tree.

"You ride handlebars?"

Four or five hours later, right as the last bell rang across town at Degrassi Community School, Ashley was just coming out a K-hole. THe entire afternoon had been devoted to the purchase of a gram of cocaine, which was quickly snorted into nonexistance, followed by courtesy bumps of K from Geoff's personal stash.

Her body had tingled to the point that she shook as the familiar feeling of complete and total inebriation washed over her. At first, she hadn't expected much -- it was only a gram between two people and she was far from a lightweight.

She hadn't counted on her sobriety having lowered her tolerance.

Within the first few lines, she had more energy than ever before. Her pupils were dilated and every color seemed brighter, every sound, louder.

The open studio apartment that seemed to be Geoff's -- she really didn't know -- smelled of pot and human urine. The seedy, busted mattress on the floor served as a couch, with the two of them sitting side by side as he made the bumps and lines.

She giggled softly as he pushed a bump into a nearly perfect circle with a bank-card. He pinched a bit between his thumb and forefinger, dropping it into the center.

"Ha, target," he chuckled stupidly, handing her the quartered straw. "Want the bulls-eye?"

"Ah, no, I really shouldn't. I have to get going," Ashley pushed it away, running a hand through her hair. "I got to meet somebody and pretend I was at school today."

"Oh! Bust-ed!" Geoff laughed raucously, his heaving laughs sending bits of powder shooting across the table.

"Funny," she frowned jokingly, pushing herself onto her feet. "Hey, standing's a lot harder than it looked."

She fell back down on the mattress, bouncing lightly against the rusted fabric.

"Let's try that again," she sighed, pushing up once more, slower this time.

"No, really, I think the bull's eye is calling you," Geoff pushed the stray grains back into the mound. He sat at eye-level with the bull's eye. "Ashley...Ashley...snort me...please, snort me!"

She laughed, stumbling over once more.

"Oh, I shouldn't have had that K." She mumbled, falling backwards on the mound of soiled sheets -- she assumed from the smell that they were dirty.

"You can't even stand up," Geoff laughed in short fits, struggling to speak. "I hate it to break it to you, sister, but I don't think you're going to make it."

"Aye, Captain!" She winked one eye and stuck out her lower lip; pirate.

She set her bag down, getting comfy on the mattress; she really didn't see herself getting anywhere, much less mustering the energy to move.

"If you're staying, it's only common courtesy to have a little bump. Tiny. Miniscule. Molecular, even." Geoff offered her the straw once more.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Geoff." She took it and placed it in her nostril, holding it at a forty-five degree angle from the line. "A hard bargain."

"I do my best," he laughed, clapping in a very effeminate manner as the grains shot into her nose.

Ashley inhaled sharply even after the line was gone. Every time she inhaled, more grains that had been trapped in her nose shot back and down easily, like water running down her throat.

Her nose and lips began to feel like gummy, wet plastic. Geoff curled his lanky body next to hers, his feet pulls up beneath him. His arm lazily moved up her own.

"Hey, Geoff, I think you got the wrong idea..." Ashley started lazily, her tongue feeling about four times too big for her mouth. "I'm not like that."

"Oh, no, I think you have the wrong idea," he replied coolly, drumming his fingers on her forearm. "You see, new friend, I am of the homosexual variety, so do not fear me as you would others of my gender."

He waved his arm out in a grand gesture, but somehow managed to overturn a water bottle and a couple of old dishes on the table. Ashley couldn't help but burst out laughing harder than she had in quite some time.

The entire ordeal, situation, placement was suddenly hilarious.

At Geoff's confession, Ashley suddenly sat up, peering into his eyes.

"Hey, do you know Marco Del Rossi?" She whispered very conspiratorially, as if Marco's sexuality were the biggest secret in the world.

"Not personally," Geoff sighed, "But I think I slept with his boyfriend."

Ashley burst into another fit of laughter, laughing until she could barely breathe.

When she had calmed down, she glanced out of the window at the darkening sky. Had she been away that long?

"What time is it?" She asked cooly, pulling her legs underneath her.

"It's..." Geoff checked his cellphone. "About eight o'clock."

"I gotta run, then, I shouldn't have stayed this long anyway.. Craig's probably worried..." She spoke quickly; it didn't seem so late!"

"Um, it's eight o'clock, yea," Geoff started, pushing himself up on his elbows, "In the morning." 


End file.
